There's a pool of egg white on the stovetop, a sprinkling of icing sugar covering the bench top, Friand mixture splatters pretty much everywhere, chocolate stains on my apron, cheesecake mixture on a shopping bag, a stack of dishes in the sink and my hands are stained raspberry red.
You could say it is a bit of a mess.
But for some reason, I don't seem to mind.
It isn't bothering me that there is a mess there for me to clean up.
In fact, the mess seems almost beautiful.
Perhaps because it seems worth it when I think of the Raspberry Cheesecake Brownies cooling on the bench and the Mini Raspberry Friands due to go into the oven.
And of the friends coming over tonight and how much they are going to enjoy eating the foods I've made 3 hours, 2 trips to the shop and 1 messy kitchen later (and at least 1 load of dishes already done, courtesy of Dad).
And it occurs to me that there have been times when the kitchen has been less messy and I've been more stressed about it. For a second I wonder why.
Then I realize:
those times when a small splatter of egg stressed me out, or a dash of flour has me rushing for the cloth, or the sizzling of water hitting a hot ring has me rubbing my forehead anxiously, have been the times when I've been so focused on the process of cooking, on the process of cleaning that I've lost sight of just what it is I'm cooking, and just why it is I'm cooking it.
When I've forgotten the big picture and been caught up in the minute, that's when I've gotten the most stressed.
And suddenly I realize that I'm not just thinking about the cooking, I'm thinking about all of my life.
When I've forgotten what God has done for me, when I've taken my eyes off of God's promises, when I've overlooked God's glory those are the times when my pain has overwhelmed me. When I've stressed the most. When I've hated myself the most.
Because I've forgotten the big picture and been caught up in the minute.
And the minute only matters if you see God in it.
If you see His Greatness and His Grace.
And they say it's not the destination that matters, but the journey.
But I don't think that's true.
It's the destination that makes the journey worth while.
What does it matter what lessons we learn, what mistakes we make, what things we see, what we experience, if we never arrive anywhere?
If it doesn't actually go towards anything?
And just focusing on the journey, well, it bogs you down and stresses you out and you can forget why you ever started on it and give up, and then never reach the destination.
And you miss out.
You miss out big time.
Because when you journey with God, it's not about the journey. It's about who He makes you, where He's taking you, and who He is.
And contrary to the "it's the journey, not the destination" mentality, Paul urges us to fix our eyes on the prize, to run the race, to fight the good fight and to never give up. And Peter and John, well, they urge us to keep growing, keep moving, because where we're moving too, who we're moving to is worth all the pain, all the agony, all the mess.
It's not the journey that matters, it's the destination. Because the destination gives the journey meaning, and the journey leads to the destination.
And the mess is beautiful not because of any beauty it inherently has, but because the mess is part of something bigger. Something better.
Showing posts with label Journeys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Journeys. Show all posts
Saturday, 15 March 2014
Thursday, 19 September 2013
Hellos and Good-byes - a Post to Celebrate 6 Years of Grace
"You know you're an MK (missionary kid) when you'd rather never say hello than ever say goodbye."
A little under 6 years ago, when I first stepped onto the grounds of PAC wearing that hideous summer dress, that was me.
That kid who didn't want to say hi, because it meant good-bye later.
It had been an intense six months in the lead up to that big first day. An international move, school changes (PAC was the second school I started at in that period of time), house changes... all of which meant the loss of absolutely everyone I had ever known.
So, to be frank, the idea of saying hello at this new school, full of strangers who spoke with accents was... terrifying.
And today, as I say good-bye, there is one thing I know very, very clearly.
Saying good-bye is sad and painful... but I am oh, so glad I said hello.
Because everything in between the hello and the good-bye has made it all worthwhile.
And this isn't going to be as articulate as I would like, which sucks because I'd have loved the post thanking my school to have been my best ever, but what words can you use when what you have been given is beyond words?
And you know what, PAC, you have lived your motto. Not many schools can say that, especially when their motto is as ambitious as ours: "To serve Christ". But you have lived it, you have breathed it, and you have made it possible for so many of us to serve Christ as well.
As I drove down the back of the gym after graduation today, feeling choked and sad because this was good-bye, I would never wear that uniform again, I would never do anything with our entire year (the Dinner tonight aside) ever again, the lyrics of the song on the radio pierced my mind.
I don't remember exactly what they were. They were not catchy or flash. They were simple, they were easy. They said that one day when we reached the edge of desperation, we would call out to God for a miracle, and He would provide us with one.
And PAC, you were that miracle.
You were God's Grace given form in my life.
Teachers, students, I don't know how much you know of the bullying I went through at my old school. I don't know if you realize how broken, how afraid and how closed off that little girl with the weird accent really was. I don't know if you realize that she was almost too afraid to move those first days, that she broke down in tears more than once and wished she was anywhere, anywhere but there. I don't know if you realized how lonely she was, or heartsick and homesick.
But she was. I was. I was at the edge of desperation. I may never have articulated it, but the truth was, I needed a miracle from God.
And long before I ever realized it, He sent me one in you.
Because that in between I spoke of? That time that made the pain of good-bye worthwhile, and the hello something to be thankful of?
That time was filled with Blessings and Grace and Love.
It was filled with a young boy, already becoming a man who saw me, a hurting girl, and danced the most ridiculous "magic tree dance" to make me feel better.
It was filled with young girls, already becoming women, who held me when I cried, laughed with me, talked the craziest nonsense and teased me mercilessly until I was able to give back everything they gave me.
It was filled with teachers who patiently cared for me when I was sick, supported me when I was striving for a goal, saw me when I was hidden and loved me without condition.
It was filled with men and women who loved God with all their hearts and served Him whole-heartedly.
It was filled with laughter, tears, successes, failures, periods of health and periods of sickness.
It was filled with family, because staff and students alike became an extended family I know I can turn to at any point with anything.
And somewhere, at some point, PAC became a home to me. And whilst it breaks my heart to say good-bye to yet another home, this time, I'm not afraid to face the future.
And when I count my blessings, PAC, I count you three times.
Once for the love, care and support of the teachers.
Once for the students who've joined me on the journey.
Once for the school as a whole, because I don't know where I would be if God hadn't given me you.
And then I start on the individual people and things that God has sent me through you, and that brings the Blessings Count into the hundreds before I start struggling with what the next thing on the list is.
So thank you, PAC, for all you've let God do.
Because that's your secret, isn't it?
It's not that you're a brilliant school with perfect people. It's that you step back and let God do the work.
And believe me it shows. The students graduating with me today, and myself, personally, are testimony to that.
So thank you, thank you, thank you.
You became God's crafting hands, and took this broken, little girl and have grown her into a woman, ready to face the world.
To the staff: keep doing what you do. Keep trusting God. Keep serving God. Keep living Grace.
And to the students: I know not all of you believe, but you've all been so instrumental for God's work in my life. You are all my brothers and sisters, (ok, maybe some are cousins) some just of the heart, and others by Blood, the Blood of Jesus Christ.
These last few words are for you, my fellow year 12 graduates. They were penned by my grandmother and given me as part of my graduation gift (Oh, the Places You'll Go! by Dr Seuss!!), and now I pass them on to you:
"Today is your school graduation day and, some might own,
the last days of rules and uniforms and all such strife;
or the end of childhood dependence and comfort zone,
as others might rue it.
Yet how much better to view it
as the first, the very first, day of the rest of your life.
So savour the journey as much as the destination,
face every challenge with faith and determination;
follow that path, ford that stream
as you chase your dream
and climb those hills, whether high or low;
then, oh the sights you will see and THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!
Go there: take care:
Stay aware: Play fair:
There is so much out there:
ENJOY!!"
A little under 6 years ago, when I first stepped onto the grounds of PAC wearing that hideous summer dress, that was me.
That kid who didn't want to say hi, because it meant good-bye later.
It had been an intense six months in the lead up to that big first day. An international move, school changes (PAC was the second school I started at in that period of time), house changes... all of which meant the loss of absolutely everyone I had ever known.
So, to be frank, the idea of saying hello at this new school, full of strangers who spoke with accents was... terrifying.
And today, as I say good-bye, there is one thing I know very, very clearly.
Saying good-bye is sad and painful... but I am oh, so glad I said hello.
Because everything in between the hello and the good-bye has made it all worthwhile.
And this isn't going to be as articulate as I would like, which sucks because I'd have loved the post thanking my school to have been my best ever, but what words can you use when what you have been given is beyond words?
And you know what, PAC, you have lived your motto. Not many schools can say that, especially when their motto is as ambitious as ours: "To serve Christ". But you have lived it, you have breathed it, and you have made it possible for so many of us to serve Christ as well.
As I drove down the back of the gym after graduation today, feeling choked and sad because this was good-bye, I would never wear that uniform again, I would never do anything with our entire year (the Dinner tonight aside) ever again, the lyrics of the song on the radio pierced my mind.
I don't remember exactly what they were. They were not catchy or flash. They were simple, they were easy. They said that one day when we reached the edge of desperation, we would call out to God for a miracle, and He would provide us with one.
And PAC, you were that miracle.
You were God's Grace given form in my life.
Teachers, students, I don't know how much you know of the bullying I went through at my old school. I don't know if you realize how broken, how afraid and how closed off that little girl with the weird accent really was. I don't know if you realize that she was almost too afraid to move those first days, that she broke down in tears more than once and wished she was anywhere, anywhere but there. I don't know if you realized how lonely she was, or heartsick and homesick.
But she was. I was. I was at the edge of desperation. I may never have articulated it, but the truth was, I needed a miracle from God.
And long before I ever realized it, He sent me one in you.
Because that in between I spoke of? That time that made the pain of good-bye worthwhile, and the hello something to be thankful of?
That time was filled with Blessings and Grace and Love.
It was filled with a young boy, already becoming a man who saw me, a hurting girl, and danced the most ridiculous "magic tree dance" to make me feel better.
It was filled with young girls, already becoming women, who held me when I cried, laughed with me, talked the craziest nonsense and teased me mercilessly until I was able to give back everything they gave me.
It was filled with teachers who patiently cared for me when I was sick, supported me when I was striving for a goal, saw me when I was hidden and loved me without condition.
It was filled with men and women who loved God with all their hearts and served Him whole-heartedly.
It was filled with laughter, tears, successes, failures, periods of health and periods of sickness.
It was filled with family, because staff and students alike became an extended family I know I can turn to at any point with anything.
And somewhere, at some point, PAC became a home to me. And whilst it breaks my heart to say good-bye to yet another home, this time, I'm not afraid to face the future.
And when I count my blessings, PAC, I count you three times.
Once for the love, care and support of the teachers.
Once for the students who've joined me on the journey.
Once for the school as a whole, because I don't know where I would be if God hadn't given me you.
And then I start on the individual people and things that God has sent me through you, and that brings the Blessings Count into the hundreds before I start struggling with what the next thing on the list is.
So thank you, PAC, for all you've let God do.
Because that's your secret, isn't it?
It's not that you're a brilliant school with perfect people. It's that you step back and let God do the work.
And believe me it shows. The students graduating with me today, and myself, personally, are testimony to that.
So thank you, thank you, thank you.
You became God's crafting hands, and took this broken, little girl and have grown her into a woman, ready to face the world.
To the staff: keep doing what you do. Keep trusting God. Keep serving God. Keep living Grace.
And to the students: I know not all of you believe, but you've all been so instrumental for God's work in my life. You are all my brothers and sisters, (ok, maybe some are cousins) some just of the heart, and others by Blood, the Blood of Jesus Christ.
These last few words are for you, my fellow year 12 graduates. They were penned by my grandmother and given me as part of my graduation gift (Oh, the Places You'll Go! by Dr Seuss!!), and now I pass them on to you:
"Today is your school graduation day and, some might own,
the last days of rules and uniforms and all such strife;
or the end of childhood dependence and comfort zone,
as others might rue it.
Yet how much better to view it
as the first, the very first, day of the rest of your life.
So savour the journey as much as the destination,
face every challenge with faith and determination;
follow that path, ford that stream
as you chase your dream
and climb those hills, whether high or low;
then, oh the sights you will see and THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!
Go there: take care:
Stay aware: Play fair:
There is so much out there:
ENJOY!!"
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